Dawnie
by Funky Chicken
Summary: S7. Dawn finds love in a guy who doesn't seem to want her just for her personality. His brother also has his eye on Buffy. Unfortunately, only the not-so-trusted Spike can see the evil in their plans, putting the Summers girls in fatal danger. B/S, D/P
1. The Beginning

"Dawn! Are you ready for school yet? Xander's here!" Buffy called up the large wooden staircase, wondering what it must have been like for Joyce when she was sixteen. Every day, Dawn seemed to be getting later for school. 

"Dawn!" Buffy called again, starting to get annoyed. 

"Yes! I'm coming, geesh. You'll let me slay vampires but you won't let me be late for school once in a while" Dawn rolled her eyes, obviously avoiding the fact that she was late nearly every day of the week. Her auburn hair bounced as she made her way down the stairs. 

"Oh, so you'd like to sling burgers at the Doublemeat Palace for the rest of your life then?"

Dawn, immediately understanding what Buffy was implying, gave a disgusted face. "Okay, I'll go to school. Do you have to remind me of that every day?"

"Call it sisterly love. Now, here's your lunch money. _Don't_ spend it all on magazines again" Buffy instructed her sister. All day, every day the Slayer switched from being the fun-loving sister to the responsible mother figure. It could get confusing sometimes, and annoying for Dawn. 

As she saw Dawn about to protest, perhaps ask for more money, Buffy raised her eyebrows, giving the 'do you want to come patrolling tonight or not' look, and Dawn quieted. "Hey-y Dawnster! What's happening? Ready for a ride in the Xander-mobile?" Dawn simply smiled at Xander's usual antics as he approached the Summers' home. She rolled her eyes playfully, said good-bye to her sister and followed Xander to his car. It was times like these that her crush on him sprung up again. 

Buffy smiled as the two made it into Xander's car. It was nice to see Dawn smiling and laughing, even if it wasn't with people her own age. For the longest time it had been so hard for Buffy to raise Dawn. Her teen sister was always so rebellious, she didn't seem to want to go along with having the same person as a sister and a mother. Whenever Buffy tried to make Dawn understand, she simply became more confused, more angry and resentful toward Buffy. It took being trapped in a twenty-foot deep hole, desperate emotionally, for the truth to come out between them. And since then, things had gotten better. At least, they were better within Buffy and Dawn's relationship. 

The rest of the Scoobies, however, weren't doing as well. 

Willow was a wreck, though it was to be expected of course. Buffy couldn't imagine anyone going through what Willow did in a span of two days, and returning from it all as their normal self. Buffy and the others had simply done what they could to cushion the blow of returning from her raging vengeance, and returning to the real world where pain was not blinded by magick. 

Xander was still torn with Anya. They had gotten so close to reuniting during the impending Apocalypse, but all that hope had been shattered quite quickly. Neither Xander nor Anya knew what to do; they called each other occasionally, spoke one or two words and then hung up the phone again. It hurt so much and yet it seemed to be the only way to handle things.

Sticking her hands in her back pockets, Buffy let out a long stream of air, her cheeks puffing slightly as she did so. This was her first day off in nearly two weeks, and she didn't have the slightest idea on how to spend it.

_The house could use a good cleaning,_ she thought idly. With the morning sun pouring in on the quaint little home, Buffy suddenly noticed every speck of dust, every smudge on the windows. It was a depressing revelation she wasn't quite ready to face. After all, who spent their day off just doing more work?

In the silence, Buffy's mind wandered back to the recently departed Dawn. Guessing that it had been around 8:15 when she and Xander left, Dawn would probably make it to school on time if Xander drove fast enough (but safely of course). And so, all thoughts of Dawn's school day were set aside for now. 

Buffy was on the verge of brainstorming more things to do with her day of freedom when a soft creaking penetrated her train of thought. Changing her gaze from the floor to the stairs, she saw Willow timidly descending, hand plastered to the banner, skin pale, and hair ungroomed. She was wearing her cute pink pyjamas with the flowers and smiley faces. 

"Hey, Will" Buffy's voice was tender yet confident. She and the other Scoobies had come to the decision that it would be a good idea to treat Willow with a form of compassion mixed with everyday actions and dialogue. Xander, in his one moment of brilliance, had described it as a sort of respective compassion. Dawn and Buffy hadn't been too surprised that he was able to lend so many helping hands when it came to Willow. His presence was a regular thing in the Summers' home now, and the sisters welcomed whatever he had to offer.  

"Hi Buffy" Willow returned the gentle smile Buffy had given her, though she was obviously not in the mood for talking, as usual. Buffy understood, but thought she might just ask simple questions, as if she and the girl were casual acquaintances. 

"How are you doing today? Could I make you some breakfast? I've learned how to make a mean toast with butter" Buffy's smile turned to more of a grin, not flattering her ability in the kitchen, wondering if she could rejuvenate a spark of Willow. Once in a while she caught Willow smiling, and it was a nice sight. 

"No, um, that's okay. I-I think I might just get a glass of orange juice and go back to bed" Willow was now at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed casually, and face downcast. _Willow's having another bad day… not that her other days are usually amazing… but she's getting better at least…. She's not stuttering as much…_ Buffy thought, not noticing that Willow had started toward the kitchen. She didn't follow right away, deciding the red-haired girl should have a little bit of space.

"You sure you don't want anything to eat? We could spend the day together if you wanted. I don't have a shift at the Doublemeat for once, so we'd have the whole day to do whatever you wanted" Buffy said as she stepped into the kitchen, noticing the rather odd static posture Willow had. Her hand was currently clutching the orange juice as the container hovered over her glass. "Will…? Willow…?" Buffy asked timidly, approaching her friend.

Gently, Buffy's hand reached out to Willow's shoulder, as a pair of eyes snapped to meet her own in chaotic surprise. Willow nearly dropped the carton of juice. It was at that moment when Buffy decided it might just be best to let Willow stay in her room for the day. Judging from the girl's state, they would probably be somewhere, shopping perhaps, and Willow would have one of her spells again. Buffy had learned from a few rather awkward experiences that it was best to quit while you're ahead. 

"Yeah?" came a tiny voice, unexpectedly shy in response to the way Willow had reacted to Buffy's touch. 

Buffy just gave Willow her trademark smile, the one she used to cover up something she had once meant to say, but had decided against at the last minute. "Nothing. I…" Buffy looked back and forth, desperately searching for an impromptu reason for having snapped Willow back to reality. "I was just wondering if we'd need more orange juice soon". 

Mechanically, Willow shook the orange juice, needing to move the container despite holding it to come to a decision that it was still quite full. "No… I think we'll be okay," she said again in the soft, miniature voice. 

Willow turned around, sliding her kitty slippers along the ground. Watching her from behind, the way Willow was hunched over, her feet barely moving off the floor, her hair flat and dead, Buffy decided that she and the others had to concoct some way of getting Willow outside more. 

"See ya, Willow" Buffy called after her, thinking she might have heard a mumbled exiting greeting from the now vacant redhead. 

_So…_ Buffy thought idly. She was now left with the decision of cleaning the house, which she knew was a slightly important task, seeing as though the dust bunnies were starting to grow families; or, she could go shopping with money she didn't have and spend the day alone. Either way she would end up feeling totally unfulfilled. 

Looking around the kitchen, Buffy suddenly noticed how high the pots and pans in the sink were now stacked. The mud streaks by their back door jumped out at her, and the stove was completely stained. Buffy decided she would have to do what was best for Dawn, and clean their home. Always, what was best for Dawn. 

"Well house, looks like it's just you and me" Buffy spoke to no one, having made her final decision about how to spend her free day. _Oh well…_ Buffy thought. _It's not like I'm gonna have to go another two or three weeks without a day off. The Doublemeat Palace isn't nearly as busy as it usually is… maybe it will stay that way for a while…_ Hopeful thoughts streamed through the Slayer's mind as she headed into the living room, deciding she would catch a little television time before putting on her cleaning gloves. 

Flopping on the couch, she glanced at the clock on the VCR, which read 8:32. Briefly wondering what kind of shows would be on at this time of day, Buffy simply flicked the television on, casually running through the channels one by one, figuring that sooner or later, she would catch something intriguing. 

As she was passing through each station, a scene suddenly caught Buffy's eye, her thumb pausing over the 'channel up' button. The word _Passions_ was scrawled across the screen, overlaying a backdrop of a lighthouse and a church. 

Buffy couldn't understand why, but for some reason, this television show was something that held significance to her. It reminded her of something truly passionate, something that was sometimes devoid of love. 

As if triggered by the word presently scrawled across the television screen, something began to caress Buffy so gently she could barely feel it at first. It drifted toward her, as if making its way from the kitchen to her living room. But this wasn't something you'd expect to actually originate in a kitchen. There was no taste of chicken or roast beef; there were no vegetables or desserts dancing away in Buffy's senses. Instead, it was as if someone were gently breathing across her collarbone, igniting a full recipe of scents. Something that smelled fresh, as if it had been buried beneath the earth, but was slightly hinted all over with the telltale signs of whiskey and cigarettes, as well as some coppery taste she couldn't quite place. The breath moved along her collarbone, becoming denser and more heated until finally a ring of moisture seemed to envelop her shoulder. 

Buffy's eyes fluttered shut as she realised there was a hand placed ever so neatly upon her waist, another one moving through her hair in rhythmic patterns. All the while the musky smell was growing stronger, drowning the Slayer in its tantalizing flavour. 

As if being pieced together, a face began to take shape, and without much attempt at recognition, Buffy realised it was Spike whose breath was dangerously walking the tightrope along her collarbone. It was his hand holding her waist in the firm yet placid touch. 

Trembles were sent down Buffy's spine as she was lost for a moment in her own living room, imagining that she was with Spike in his crypt, their nightly deeds being carried out once again. Yet an odd and disturbing sound began to replace the sensations pouring over her body. 

Screaming was suddenly all Buffy could hear, the sound of her pleading for Spike to stop his advancing upon her. Sharp pains stabbed her in the back as she writhed beneath him, crying out her protest against what he was doing.

Buffy remained in the horrid fantasy until she realised it was only that; a fantasy. Her mind suddenly kicked in and she returned herself to the calm of her living room, finding that her free hand had been gripping the remote control, her breath having grown shaky. 

Looking around her peaceful setting, Buffy decided then that it was time to get to her original plan. If she continued watching television, there was no doubt that she would stumble across the show "_Passions_" again, an event she really didn't look forward to. 

The TV gave one final wink before Buffy turned it off, tossing the remote on her chair as she stood up. Breathing one final time, she turned toward the hall closet where the cleaning supplies were kept, ready to give their home a well-needed overhaul.


	2. Return

Clem was sitting alone, as usual, in Spike's crypt. The red burgundy chair he had chosen for seating purposes was as musty as it ever had been, the television's reception as poor as it always was. Still, you could almost make out Sally Jessie Raphael and the whiny delinquents seated next to her. 

The atmosphere in the crypt was calm, almost deadly quiet. When the metal door flung open, Clem's wrinkly composure was nearly given an overhaul he jumped so high in his chair. A blanketed figure stumbled in, not nearly as steamy as it should have been for the middle of the day. 

The creature fell to the ground once within the safety of his 'home'. Clem in the meantime stood up, realising who must have been under the blanket. 

"Spike?" He tested quietly, almost shyly, his hands clasped apprehensively in front of him. 

Arms flung out from beneath the material, shoving the blanket away. A dirty, sweat-slicked man was lying on the floor. His bleached hair was fading and looked almost woolly it hadn't been washed in so long. A complete mess. Wounds were still slightly prominent on the vampire's otherwise perfect skin. 

"Yeah". It didn't even sound like Spike. His voice, instead of the strong, masculine tone, was a crackling whisper, as if flames were rolling in his throat, and actual speech would simply fuel them more. It hadn't been long since his last 'meal', but still his throat was parched. 

Clem rushed forward to close the door, seeing beams of sunlight dancing precariously close to the fallen vampire. After slamming the metal structure shut, he went to help up the slightly quivering figure. Spike, however, flinched at the demon's touch, his head swivelling so their eyes met slightly before dropping his sight again. "You can go home now". 

It was a request and an order in the same motion. Spike needed to be alone right now. He needed to go downstairs and simply… be. There were so many thoughts he hadn't wanted to think without the comfort of his crypt. So many things he was too ashamed to think of without knowing he was somewhere that things could be thrown and hurled without causing too much damage. 

That was a soul for you, causing compassion sometimes for the strangest, most invaluable settings and objects. 

"Well, I'll be around if you need me, Spike" Clem said in his usually cheerful tone, going to pat Spike on the shoulder, but figuring it was best not to touch the flinching figure. 

Spike heard the door close once again, and finally worked up the strength to at least look around the room that had once been so familiar to him. Everything was almost exactly as he had left it. Clem hadn't even moved any of the furniture. 

There were a few candy bar wrappers here and there; some soda cups, and the television had a new aerial on it. Looking forward and slightly to his right, Spike saw the trap door he had built into the crypt almost two years ago, if not longer. That door meant safety. 

It took more than Spike could have imagined to work up the energy needed to pull himself to the trap door. Opening it, a flood of scents came rushing toward him, filling his mind with old memories he wasn't quite ready to dive into, but surely couldn't ignore anymore. Still, he pushed them away as best he could, slipping into the welcoming void only a ladder's length away. 

Downstairs, it was dark, damp, and cool. The air seemed to be much fresher than he would have expected after a month or two. Then again, he had lost track of time as to how long he had been gone, so who knows? Maybe he was only gone two weeks. Buffy probably didn't care, either. 

Spike didn't realise that he had just thought of _her_. To be able to pass over the Slayer like that was a blessing for the peroxide vampire. Allowing his mind to even linger on that subject was usually a deadly poison, one he took far too often. 

Lighting a lamp from one of the many shelves placed strategically within his crypt, Spike looked around at his setting, finding that this had obviously gone untouched like the rest of his home. The bed still looked slept in, the candles seemed as if they hadn't been burned past the height they had been when he left; things just seemed static in this basement apartment. 

Relaxation began to set in once again. But Spike didn't want to be relaxed. Relaxed meant sleep, and sleep meant nightmares of the victims he had tortured. Part of him didn't care about the people he'd maimed. Part of him knew it was because he was an animal, and bloody hell, he still was… in some ways at least. But part of him, his soul, told him that all of those screaming faces had died for a virtually needless cause. 

Even then, there were reasons to justify his feeding on humans. To not do so would mean death, and therefore he would have been unable to meet the one person he actually cared for in the world. And for a moment, Spike forced himself to think again of why he went through the torture he did in order to win back his soul…

Blonde hair that could go at any length and still frame a perfectly sculpted face. Green eyes that dug miles through his heart, never stopping for a breath, never pausing to regain energy. A nose; not the most beautiful part on the human body, but one that seemed to fit her petite features, and just add to what drove Spike crazy over her. And finally, that smile. One he hadn't seen or even caused too often, but nonetheless a smile that could light up even the darkest of worlds. Glistening pearls for teeth, and crimson creases for lips. That was just the beginning, too. 

Buffy. Of course Buffy. Who else would he go to the other side of the world for? What other human would he risk his mind and body for? Only her. Only the Slayer. The being designed to protect the world from creatures like Spike, yet the only girl he desired. Perhaps the greatest case of irony ever conjured. 

The simple mental mention of her name was enough to ignite a small realisation within Spike. Buffy might have been a bringer of heartfelt pain, but perhaps she could be his comfort. Perhaps she could protect him from the faces and souls lurking around every corner, just waiting for Spike to drift into sleep. 

Striding in a slightly staggered manner toward one of his many dressers, Spike opened a smaller drawer. Revealed to him were a few pieces of women's clothing. A black laced bra, two white bras; a pinkish tank top dyed fashionably with powder blue, as well as a skirt Buffy had left behind one night. Spike couldn't remember how she had gotten home while still fully clothed. 

Pulling out the black bra, the top, and the skirt, Spike turned toward his still unmade bed. Lovingly, he laid out Buffy's clothing in a rather unconventional manner. He could actually make positions with the clothing now, so there was no need to simply lay it flat. This was something he had had practise doing, having turned it into an occasional habit since Buffy's leaving him. Too bad he hadn't taken her clothing with him to Africa. 

Once Spike had the perfect positioning, he continued to move mechanically throughout the crypt, making his way around to the other side of the bed, placing his lantern on the nightstand. Not bothering to undress at all, having gotten used to sleeping in his jeans, Spike climbed into the bed. He pulled the comforter over himself and 'Buffy' before turning to blow out the lamp. 

The crypt was once more washed with darkness, and Spike was glad he had closed the trap door. Curling up onto his right side to face the mock-Buffy, Spike settled in, relishing in the fact that her clothing had not yet lost its trademark Slayer scent, one he would be inhaling all night. Closing his eyes, the vampire prepared himself for what he hoped to be a pleasant sleep, if not a dreamless one. 


	3. Haints and Boys

Buffy continued rummaging through her closet and the mountain of clothes that had accumulated there over months. Denim jackets and old black skirts skittered onto her bed, socks and the occasional pair of panties landing beside her door along with everything else that needed to be washed. 

Cleaning her house had been no easy job, but less than an hour into it, Buffy learned how to multitask her duties. While dishes were washing, she vacuumed the couches and carpets and scrubbed the floors. During the oven's self-cleaning process, Buffy washed the windows inside and out. She changed light bulbs and tidied up various knick-knacks to the sound of the washing machine and dryer tumbling and scrubbing away. 

It didn't take long for Buffy to decide that her room's cleaning would be best left as an optional chore. After all, she was doing all this cleaning for the sake of Dawn, and her room was hardly any concern of her little sister. 

Still, her triumphant gaze from her front door, looking around at the newly polished rooms had left her with an hour or so before Dawn got home from school. It surprised Buffy to know that she had finished so quickly, but it also disappointed her to know that it wasn't over yet. Heavy-legged and slightly sluggish, Buffy had ascended the stairs and made her way down the hall. Stopping at her doorway, she discovered that things weren't so bad in the poster-decorated room, and had headed straight for her closet. 

The process continued on in the meanwhile as Buffy threw shirts, shoes, and the occasional hair clip everywhere. Reaching into the still moderately sized pile, Buffy pulled out her maroon leather jacket, and quickly noticed the pockets it possessed. "Aha! Lint bunnies beware" Buffy smiled, having a little fun with her temporary occupation as her hands dove into the left hand pocket, finding nothing. Expecting to find nothing again, Buffy's hand sunk into the right hand pocket, and stopped when it touched something cool, smooth, and seemingly metallic. Gripping its rounded edges, she pulled it out of the deep pocket, heart skipping a beat when she saw what had been hidden in her closet for what had probably been an eon or two. 

A flask, dulled of its lustre during manufacture but still almost brand new, lay in the grip of her hand, slender fingers wrapping around the ergonomically designed edges. A shocked, slightly lost girl was staring back at her in the reflection, and Buffy turned it over once or twice to make sure the object was actually laying there. 

Spike seemed to be haunting Buffy from every corner of her conscious world, and even beyond there. In her dreams she occasionally saw the blonde vampire, simply standing in the midst of a fast-paced world, the edges of his sculpted body slightly blurred, but existent nonetheless. Still, it was different for him to show up in the material world, whether it was he himself, or just symbols of the vampire. 

This was three times in one anomaly of a day that she had been reminded of Spike. The same vampire she had succumbed to so many nights in a row she had lost count after thirty. First, it was _Passions_, the beautifully scrawled word mocking her on the television screen. Then came the tattered old blanket she had found while cleaning, perhaps Spike's, perhaps her own, but a sign of him either way. Now, the flask, its perfect shape allowing her reflection to gape back at her, simply staring into oblivion. 

Buffy tossed the flask back into her closet, not thinking enough to throw it out, and shoved the door shut, locking away the memories of a lightning-haired vampire. 

A rush of urges flew through Buffy's bloodstream as she glanced out the window and into what was surely a fresh-scented environment, unlike the air in her room that had suddenly become stale and frozen. Slaying wouldn't be a bad idea, though at this time of day there were no free-roaming vampires. She would also enjoy the taste of liquor mingled with a dance-club atmosphere. The Bronze. Yet another treat available only during the wee hours of nightfall.

It walls, occasionally covered with the newest décor for a popular night club, had seen so many triumphs and sorrows, so much laughter and pain in the five years running that Buffy and her friends had used it as a hangout. Dawn, and perhaps even Willow might be up for a night out, dancing to hypnotic music and drowning whatever sorrows they might have in a pool of flavoured alcohol; Coke in Dawn's case. 

Deciding finally that she would mention it to either girl as soon as Dawn got home, Buffy picked up the last of her laundry and headed to the basement. As soon as the washing machine was purring like Miss Kitty Fantastico, a kitten who brought back happy yet dreary memories of Willow and Tara, Buffy headed upstairs for something to eat. Cleaning all day without a break had made her quite hungry. 

Buffy was bored. It had only been a few minutes since she had finished her meal and cleaned up from it in a most efficient manner, and still she was bored. Glancing around the kitchen, finding that its emptiness was something matched by every other room in the home, except that containing a redheaded ex-Wicca, Buffy let out a long sigh. Perhaps this was why her days free from the Doublemeat Palace were few in number. Without work, what would she do with her days except attempt to entertain a broken-minded Willow?

Glancing at the clock, which now read 3:30, Buffy began to tap her fingernails in an unwritten tune against the ceramic countertop. She had expected Dawn to be home by now. Then again, teenage sisters were very rarely predictable; a theory that had been both tested and proven many times in Buffy's generation. Sighing, the Slayer let her head fall with her fingers to the counter, her cheek resting against the pleasantly cool surface. Blonde locks spilled everywhere, marring the once perfect ivory surface. 

Fashionably late for some unannounced cue, sounds from the front of her home startled Buffy only moments after placing her head down. It seemed that Dawn had made the decision to come home after all. Straightening her hair out, Buffy stood up from the counter, pushing the stool back in and turning toward the front entrance. Skipping with a pride-filled step, Buffy couldn't wait to see the look on Dawn's face as she gazed around at the newly groomed home. 

Buffy, however, was the one to get a shock. Standing at the front door was indeed the brunette she adorned with the title 'sister', but at either side of her were two boys. One looked about in his mid teens, somewhere around Dawn's age. The other was more mature in his features, perhaps leaning toward being a young adult; much like Buffy. 

They were both very clean cut. Black hair gelled into messy perfection, slightly spiky in some regions. The younger boy was wearing black jeans, loosely fitting of course, and a black tank top with a red button up shirt, not unlike what Spike would wear. His eyes were a piercing blue, his lips crimson, and his cheeks defined but not in a bragging manner.

The older one was almost the same in his choice of clothing; only he bore darker blue jeans instead of black ones, and a blue button up shirt instead of a red one. His eyes cut through the world like a pair of emeralds, his green eyes the only feature on him that set him apart from the other boy.

These two were definitely brothers, and definitely football players. Most likely wide receivers by their muscular yet lean builds. Not as lean as Spike, but not as brawny as Angel, Buffy thought to herself. Either way, they had faces to make girls melt in their shoes. 

"Hey, Dawn" Buffy's breath slid over the first word as it usually did when she was in a compromising situation, the name of her sister simply sliding out afterward.

Dawn spun to face her sister's tone, her hair following in a mass of auburn ribbons. A wide smile spread across the teen's face as her gaze met the Slayer's, pearly whites showing in the curve of her lips. "Hi Buffy…" her facial expression could not be torn down as Dawn stepped a little in front of the boys. "Um, I hope you don't mind, but I brought a little company over" her voice was barely hiding the excited undertones. 

In all truth, Buffy was a little disappointed in spite of the two boys standing at their front door. She had hoped to show off the wonderful cleanliness of their home, but with company over, the perfection would probably be destroyed, or simply fade away. Still, Buffy decided to grin and bear it. "No, it's no problem" she said with a shrug. 

Dawn stepped forward and to the side, so she was now standing to the right of where they boys stood. Dawn leaned against the door frame that lead into their dining room where Buffy was standing, her back resting against one of the chairs. Dawn waved her hand toward the youngest one first "This is Phoenix…" she smiled as the boy lifted his hand in a polite gesture, the movement accompanied by an obviously shy "hey". 

Buffy nodded to the boy, giving a salutation of equal calibre, and Dawn moved on. "And, um, this is Dakota. He's Phoenix's brother. He's in college, over where you and… everyone else… used to be" Dawn paused when she was about to mention Tara and Riley, among other people. Buffy nodded, apparently supposed to assume that Phoenix was from Sunnydale High. It also seemed as if she was to be impressed by the boys.

She was, a little. Dakota gave a nod, his hand exploring the outer regions of his pockets only to give the same acknowledgment to Buffy as his brother had. "Hey. I'm Buffy, as Dawn already mentioned. Would you guys like anything to eat or drink?" taking on the role that she supposed her mother would have in the same situation, Buffy put on an already smiling visage, warm and welcoming, though she wasn't thoroughly interested in the situation. Everyone nodded at Buffy's request, and she got to work taking down orders as Dawn settled in with everyone else. 

Buffy had played the part of perfect sister and delighted hostess until the night's end. Not a single protest was murmured when Dawn 'accidentally' sat her and Dakota together, sticking them as close to each other as possible on the tan couch, and then again when they had stopped at the Doublemeat Palace for a discount dinner. Buffy's voice couldn't be heard when Dawn and Phoenix became intimately close. Or at least, what could be called intimately close for two teenagers in their situation. 

Still, she breathed a silent, drawn out sigh of relief when the two boys left for the evening. She didn't blame Dawn for trying to open her eyes to other men. Buffy was actually quite pleased to see that Spike hadn't been the last man to be interested in her. But Dakota just wasn't what Buffy was looking for. On the other hand, it had become quite obvious to Buffy throughout the night that _she_ was what Dakota was looking for. He was quite enthusiastic about starting something with her it seemed.  

When the front door finally shut, Dawn didn't pause an instant before turning toward Buffy, her eyes wide and excited. "Oh my God. Aren't they _amazing_!" Her words tumbled out, both a statement and a question. Not wanting to spoil her sister's enthusiasm, obviously not blind as to what was going on with her and Phoenix, Buffy simply nodded, attempting to look equally interested. "Yeah, they both seemed like awesome guys… I guess you met Phoenix at school, right?"

Dawn nodded, her eyes giving away the fact that the black-haired boy had obviously caught her heart. "Yep. He's on the football _and_ track teams" she giggled, giddy and overly happy. "Dakota is quite the athlete, too… You guys really seemed to be hitting it off". 

_Oh God. If I gave _Dawn_ that impression, I wonder what _he_ must be thinking. Oh God. _Buffy's thoughts were a jumbled heap of contradiction, not even close to the nature of her reaction to Dawn's giddiness. Buffy's heart and mind were saying one thing, and only a small part of her was endorsing the two boys who had just left their home. 

"Yeah, he seemed like a _great_ guy" Buffy said with forced enthusiasm, wondering if Dawn might pick it out. 

She didn't though, and simply went on smiling. "I thought you might like him. He kind of reminded me of a mix between Angel and Riley, with the charm of Ben. Remember him?" when Buffy nodded, Dawn continued "I mean, I haven't known him that long. It's just… uh, that's how he came off to me". As Dawn's explanation finished, Buffy decided that her sister had done homework on Dakota, despite what she said. 

Giving a long, drawn-out yawn, using it to escape any further conversation about the guys who didn't hold too much emotionally for her, Buffy glanced at a clock down the hallway. "Wow, it's 10:00? That went a little too quickly" with raised eyebrows, her green orbs then drifted toward the staircase, toward freedom. "I think I might head up to bed, I'm kind of tired". Buffy didn't bother to mention _why_ she was so tired, glancing around at the clean surfaces surrounding her. Instead, she simply started up the stairs, giving Dawn a kiss on the forehead before doing so. 

She was stopped though, by the sound of her sister. "Buffy?" blonde hair was flicked out of the Slayer's face as she turned to her sister, who was leaning against the banister. "Um, I noticed that you cleaned. It looks nice". Finally, Dawn really _had_ noticed the effort. Buffy laughed softly before giving a slight nod with her smile. "Thanks… night Dawn". Dawn smiled, beginning to take off her jacket. "Night". 

On her way up the stairs, Buffy decided to poke her head into Willow's room to make sure that her best friend was okay. What she saw broke her heart, and brought tears to her eyes in almost the same moment. 

Willow was curled up on her left side, facing the doorway. She was now in a pair of turquoise pyjamas with cupcakes and clouds dancing about, the sheets only half covering her. Her porcelain hand was stretched out across the pillow beside her, and on the white cushion was a picture of Tara. Finishing off the tragically picturesque scene was the fact that Willow was smiling. Red locks of liquorice were slightly covering the curve of her lips, but it was available to anyone willing to glance hard enough. Admiring the setting only a moment longer, Buffy pulled the bedroom door shut, and made her way off for a silent, peaceful sleep. 

*in case anyone was wondering, the word 'haint' is something I got from the book _To Kill a Mockingbird_, and essentially, it means 'ghost' 


	4. Impromptu Rendezvous

**Author's Note: **(I promise this won't take long). Wow. I have neglected this fic for… hmm, going on five months now. Well, I'd say that 'been lacking in inspiration for' rather than 'neglecting' is a better use of words, but hey, either way, it's been five long months. So, that said, I would **LOVE** any feedback you can give (and to be honest, the effort itself can take up as little as two, maybe three minutes of your time). Whether it's good, bad, critical, etc… it all makes a difference for an author. You are the ones reading this fiction, and you are the ones who can spot my mistakes and what not (believe it or not, but it is sometimes extremely difficult for a writer to spot errors… I do it all the time, even after reading something over five times). Basically, I'm always interested to know your opinions. Is my writing ability slipping? Did this chapter just mess up my story? … You get the hint.  So, that said, I hope you people enjoy the next chapter to 'Dawnie'!

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

"Every single night, the same arrangement… I go out and fight… the fight" the lyrics sighed past Buffy's lips without enthusiasm, her mind simply conjuring the words out of boredom. Midnight had come and gone, and still her net quantity of vampires staked was relaxed at zero. _Well, _Buffy prompted internally. _At least it's not the Doublemeat Palace…_ even minor thoughts of the grease-stained atmosphere sent chills down the Slayer's spine.

Stopping in her tracks, heeled shoes planting themselves in the supple earth, Buffy gave a last desperate surveillance of the cemetery, wooden stake twirled idly between her fingers. "And behold the heroic Slayer. If I'm not slinging hamburger meat at a restaurant where you can gain weight just by breathing the air, I'm missing out on hours of sleep just so I can hang out with tombstones… I bet _this_ wasn't in '_The Slayer Handbook_'" she scoffed, wondering if her life's situation was another reason why Slayers didn't tend to live into their twenties. 

Face pouting slightly, Buffy was about to venture in some random direction when a spontaneous force suggested she do otherwise. Feathers scurried along the base of her spine, and despite her jacket the Slayer shivered, such a sensation fully grounding her. This… That…  _It_… Was familiar. Colourful aromas and intoxicating sounds drifted through her memory and senses, each sight, sound, smell, and touch helping to conjure the image of a single, unmistakeable being. 

_Spike_… 

… was back?

But it couldn't be him… she was nowhere _near_ his crypt. Virtually on the other side of town. _And that is a shock to you how? _Her subconscious self snickered. _Remember, we **are** talking about **Spike**… Practically the poster boy for 'go where I want, when I want'. _Oh yeah. Eyes rolling at her initial state of surprise, the Slayer began to take a step forward, the automatic footfall retracted by the pride that constantly simmered within her, erupting only when needed. 

_Where are you going?_ It demanded, completely appalled by the fact that she had allowed even a tiny movement. For Buffy, the answer was simple; it may as well have been staring her in the face. She was going to see Spike. He had returned to Sunnydale, and she was going to see him.

She. Was going. To see _Spike. _The sentence rumbled about in Buffy's brain for a moment, attempting to solidify in the many corners of her consciousness. 

Of course, tossed back at her was every word that could ever be associated with the act of rape. Disgusting terms, suggestive synonyms; they all took a crack at rupturing the Slayer's resolve. But none if it mattered… not really. Despite his attempt on her, Buffy just couldn't bring herself to hate the bleached monster, couldn't bring herself to _not_ be concerned for him. Spike had done too much for her in the past; he'd saved and cared for Dawn, been a shoulder for Buffy to cry on that night on her back porch when her mother left for the hospital. Even their months of violent sex somehow qualified as a good deed… bruising his body and her own had somehow given Buffy something to live for, something to _feel_ besides empty. 

No. She couldn't hate him. Perhaps dislike with incredible magnitude, but not hate. And that simple revelation, one that had actually been drilling holes in her mind for months, is what set the Slayer on her search again, guided only by the dancing sensation creeping along her vertebrae. 

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

After what seemed an eternity to her usually razor-sharp instincts, Buffy's slightly heightened sense of sight pinpointed her bleached-blonde target. Spike was situated so that his back was to her, shoulder blades resting against the stump of a tree. Knees drawn up around his chest, the vampire appeared to be deep in thought, perhaps not even aware of her presence. 

For a moment, Buffy found herself studying the night-crawling creature, emerald orbs tracing many of his contours. It was almost strange to see him positioned so peacefully. Spike was usually up and about causing some form of chaos, or at least tensed and ready for his next opportunity to inflict such. Furthermore, and quite strangely, the Slayer was caught admiring how every ounce off moonlight seemed to perfectly compliment the vampire, washing over his features in an almost heavenly fashion as he gazed up at it. 

A second, perhaps two were dedicated to Buffy's short-lived cause before it was shaken away, almost quivering muscles moving once again. _You can do this…_ the portion of her mind able to tolerate Spike was endlessly chanting the quartet, giving her strength where she was otherwise crippled. A deep breath whispered past her lips as a final octet of steps was taken, bringing her within a seven-foot proximity of… _him_. 

"So, you're back" she said quietly, tenderly, for some reason not desiring any use of harsh tones. 

Head turning slowly in Buffy's direction, Spike's radiant eyes were hardly so lethargic when they recognized her petite form. Fear flashed momentarily in his azure orbs before utter disbelief took over, the vampire's mouth hanging open slightly to complete the twisted, awestruck pose of his face. "Buffy" he said, voice reflecting the waves of surprise crashing through his mind. 

Incredibly lean limbs, and lengthy ones at that should have made the action of standing up a rather messy ordeal. Somehow though, Spike was able to pull himself into a standing position with the fluent grace of a feline, black-clad legs and silver-jewelled arms in perfect sync with each other. "What are you…" he breathed, warped brain unable to conjure anything of use. Eyes flickered at the command of his instincts, briefly grazing over Buffy's handheld stake, such a sight causing a new form of fear to solidify within his veins. 

Heart instantly aware of the emotion that had suddenly embedded itself in the vampire's eyes, Buffy felt her own voice jump into action. "I'm not here to…" fumbling with her miniature spear, the Slayer decided that its best habitat was currently in the embrace of her coat pocket. "I just… I was patrolling and…" she looked away with an awkward smile and a slight tip of her shoulder, hands now free of any excess weight. 

"Oh…" Spike responded with near-silence, azure orbs void of his usually confident mischief. "Right, well… I'll just…" once again, the vampire was lost for words, and he played the same game of averting his eyes, chin falling though instead of swivelling. Glancing quickly behind his shoulder, it was only a second before Spike's mass began to follow, hoping to make a silent escape. 

"How long have you been back?" Buffy's voice snared both blondes' attention, neither having expected her to delay his leaving. Part of the Slayer was repulsed by such an action, wanting nothing _but_ space between her and the night crawler. But compassionate Buffy, the fraction of her consciousness that didn't object to Dawn's wishes to stay with Spike during the impending apocalypse, endorsed her choice to speak. 

From Spike's point of view, the echo was not a symbol of conflicting emotions or sour decisions; it was the single slice of salvation he'd craved since being infected with a soul. Buffy's concern, no matter how insignificant or generic, was existent nonetheless. And it proved one simple yet incredibly precious thing; she didn't hate him. "Um…" the vampire began sifting through his known timeline, the sound muttered as he turned to face the creature he loved so dearly. "Few days now I suppose… Three, maybe four" his voice remained timid, not-so-superior grammar still existent. 

"Oh…" Buffy's voice rang, emerald optics staring into space as various thoughts jogged through her mind. Something about the vampire seemed… off. Spike just wasn't himself; his mouth wasn't working overtime to somehow instigate even a verbal confrontation. The peroxide addict before her was calm yet uncomfortable, acting like a kindergarten student who had been reprimanded.

"Why did you…" her voice pierced a looming cloud of silence, resonations instantly catching the vampire's attention. Buffy cut the sentence short though, eyes drooping with discomfort. No. She couldn't ask _that_ question. And she _really_ didn't want to know the answer; at least, she didn't want to hear it spoken aloud. Instead, the Slayer's hazel-tinted jewels lifted in synchronization with a more confident yet still softly delivered question. "Where did you go?"

Spike had practised his answer to that question for hours on end, assuming he would someday have a civilized conversation with the Slayer. But who knew the opportunity would come so soon? Who knew Buffy would actually let him live long enough to ask the question in the first place? More importantly though, what exactly _was_ the answer he'd practised so arduously? Internally grumbling at his failed memory, the vampire attempted to construct a new yet still explanatory response. "Nowhere in particular" he almost whispered. "Just had to get away… Give myself time to think… about things" eyes flickering downward, Spike refused to further approach the subject hanging precariously over the two supernatural beings. 

"Well, you missed a lot" the Slayer responded robotically, her more valuable thoughts put toward analysing Spike's words. They were simple enough to comprehend, but her moments of contemplation were contributed to reading between the lines. And with Spike, that was quite often a very worthwhile and important act. 

Spike simply chuckled, the roughly thrown breath used more as a way in which to relieve some of the tension currently building within his chest. "Somehow that doesn't come as much of a surprise… Sunnydale folk have a way of keeping things interesting," he smiled slightly, words constructed as if he and the blonde girl were long lost friends as opposed to… well… whatever they were. 

"No kidding" Buffy said with an equally soft grin and a roll of her eyes. 

After those three syllables, however, their conversation was instantly dampened; the threatening cloud of silence finally decided to descend. Neither vampire nor Slayer knew where to take the dialogue exchange after that point. Buffy wanted to indulge Spike on some of the events he had missed; maybe confide in someone about how she _really_ felt toward some of the season-old chaos. And despite his cloak of silence, Spike was caught every now and then with the urge to immediately spit out his new secret; after all, he'd gotten it for _her_… But it was still too soon; her judgement on him was still unclear.

Chest heaving with a sigh, Buffy glanced around, estimating by the moon's position that it was roughly 1:00 a.m., give or take an hour. "Well, I should probably get home… it's getting late, or, early…"

"I know" Spike said, having been victimized before by the same excuse for weeks on end. He already knew how her sentence was going to end; might as well save her the effort. 

"Oh… Well then I… Guess I'll see you around," the Slayer formed her statement into a partial question, voice rising just enough so that it became apparent. 

Simply nodding in response, Spike was already taking petite paces in the opposite direction. "Maybe… Dunno if your little crew would exactly love that idea… But, if you need me, you know where I'll be," confidence and honesty were laced into his uncharacteristically piano voice, personality apparently not lost with volume. Following what would be the next logical step in concluding their meeting, Spike turned on his heel, the manoeuvre completed in an echo of his usually rebellious spirit. 

Buffy's heart began to twist in confusion as the bleached creature dissolved from view. It didn't know what to feel, how to react… Simmer before internally exploding with acute disappointment at the fact that Spike had returned after all? Or should the Slayer take a moment to peacefully rejoice? The man… vampire… who'd helped her through nearly a year of self-torture, no matter how violent his methods, had returned. A confidante, a mild companion, and a trustworthy partner in battle was finally within Sunnydale's warm embrace. 

Attempted rape had a way of blurring the lines between shoulds and should-nots when it came to what emotions were appropriate in these impossible-to-decipher situations. Buffy didn't put a lot of effort into tormenting herself over such two-sidedness though. With Spike, things were never simple, and very rarely were they purely pleasant. At one o'clock in the morning, it didn't take long before the Slayer had decided that for once, things could be left for another time. 

After all, it would at least give her _something_ to think about during her next, and no doubt endless shift at the Enslaved-meat Palace.


	5. An Offer She Can't Refuse

"This seat taken?"

Dawn spun to meet the sudden appearance of a very masculine face, cheeks dimpling with delight when she met electric blue eyes. "Phoenix! Hey!" she exclaimed, brushing at a stray lock of auburn hair. Giddily, she shifted sideways a few inches, wordlessly welcoming him to the seat he'd requested. "How have you been…? I haven't seen you around lately," she smiled. 

"I know… Coach Rickler's been riding the team _all_ week. Says we're not conditioned enough to be good football players, so we've had to practise during lunch _and_ after school," he rolled his eyes, teeth sinking into a slice of cafeteria pizza. 

"Aren't you guys undefeated though?" Dawn gave a small laugh, obviously finding the team's schedule absurd as well. 

Phoenix nodded in response, swallowing back his first mouthful of gooey goodness. "We're _killing_ the rest of the district. So far, we've won every game by at _least_ three touchdowns. Rickler's just crazy… That's the only explanation I can come up with," he said, eyebrow cocked above his quirked smile. 

Able to offer no personally oriented comments to her friend's statement, Dawn was helpless to do anything more than laugh, muttering something partially meaningful as well.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, Dawn nibbling her crackers, Phoenix devouring his pizza. Finally though, the male half spoke up. "So did you and your sister have fun the other night?" he laughed. "I meant to ask you sooner but…" the teen shrugged, obviously referring to his insane football schedule. 

"No, no, it's okay. I understand," Dawn waved her hand, dismissing Phoenix's apology. "And yes, there was definitely a fun factor," her smile was shy yet suggestive, her growing emotion for the boy forcing its way to the surface. 

"Yeah? I mean, I had a good time, too… I'd like to do it again sometime if Coach ever lets the team out of his sight for more than two hours," Phoenix chuckled at the latter half of his statement, though the entire thing was spoken with sincerity. 

"Me too," Dawn nodded, lengthened hair rippling with the movement as her eyes wandered casually over his features. God, she wanted to just _devour _him… Those sculpted cheeks and pumped arms and his candy-like lips and…

"Dakota really thought your sister was cool," Phoenix interrupted Dawn's thought process, though her ears sang when penetrated by his voice. 

"Huh? Oh…" she smiled, snapping from the daze. "Yeah, Buffy really liked him too," the teen practically lied through her teeth, having no honest idea whether her sister was fond of Dakota or not. But the way those icy blue eyes were cutting through her… how could she _not_ lie? 

"Really?" he responded half-interestedly, head cocking to the side. 

"Yeah," Dawn insisted, the wide spread of her lips not faltering as she brushed a few continuously errant locks of chocolate behind her hears. 

"Cool! 'Cuz me and Dakota were thinking of hitting The Bronze tonight… Why don't you and your sister come, too?" he asked hopefully, the charm in his expressions obviously kicking up a few degrees. 

Dawn successfully controlled the sudden impulse to sputter in shocked giddiness, her mouth hanging open as she attempted to find a not-so-idiotic way in which to respond. "Um, yeah, I'd… We'd love to!" she laughed. "A-And I'm pretty sure my sister usually gets Tuesday nights off, too" Dawn let the notion go verbally unfinished. 

"But _you'll_ be there no matter what?" Phoenix's eyebrows lifted sceptically, a conspiring grin crossing his features. 

"As long as my sister has no objections," she gave a little eye-roll, quickly following it with another airy laugh.  

"Good," Phoenix glanced at his watch then, shoving the last chunk of pizza into his mouth. Reading the time, his face became contorted with horrified shock. "Listen, I gotta jet," he said almost frantically, swallowing down the morsel of food. "Bio project due next period that I kinda forgot to finish last night," he chuckled. "But, uh… My brother gets off work usually around six or so… How 'bout we pick you up at around eight tonight?"

"That's great!" she said cheerfully. "At least then my sister won't be able to use the 'you have to finish all your homework' excuse," Dawn grinned, imitating her sister as being tyrannically loyal to one's after-school academic obligations.

Phoenix laughed aloud at that, head lolling backward. "So you're saying I should be thankful that when Coach Rickler gets on my case, he's at least making me do something I _like_?" he asked, eyebrow raised above a lop-sided grin. 

"Trust me," Dawn said with an affirmative nod. "My sister?" her expression showed one of reminiscent displeasure. "Definitely the most determined, won't-take-no-for-an-answer person alive" her eyes rolled again. "She could probably take Coach Rickler down without even batting an eye," she laughed. "Have him crying like a baby in no time."

"Really?" it was hard to tell if Phoenix's expression was one of fear or astonishment. Perhaps a mix of both. 

"Oh yeah. Anytime, anywhere" Dawn muttered, blue eyes turning to the sky for the umpteenth time. 

"Well in that case, maybe we should introduce them," he suggested brightly. "Maybe then I won't have to leave football practise feeling like my body's been pumped full of Novocaine," he grinned suggestively, flawless features apparently incapable of contorting into anything short of drop-dead gorgeous. 

Dawn laughed at that, though her mind quickly steered itself down a tantalizing road… If Phoenix practised as much as he claimed to, that had to mean there was some _definite_ muscle hiding under his shirt, right? Tactfully, she somehow managed to resist licking her lips in that moment, an automatic response bouncing past her lips. "Yeah, I've always wondered if watching a grown man cry is as funny in real life as it is in the movies," she laughed again, but in spite of it her mind was screaming _lame, lame, lame!_

Phoenix chuckled politely, though he could see the obvious embarrassment glimmering just behind Dawn's eyes. "Well… I should probably get going," he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he stood up. "See you at eight?" the boy gave her a sideways, reassuring grin to prove that despite her comment, he thought no less of her. 

"Can't wait," she said almost dreamily, deciding to use simple phrases in light of her most recent embarrassment. 

"Later Dawn," Phoenix said before turning around, backpack slung over his shoulder. 

Dawn was helpless to do anything but watch as his heavenly figure departed. By the time he finally fell from her sight, the teen felt as if butterflies were teasing every nerve in her body. Exactly one thought was passing through her giddy, teenaged consciousness: _I'm in love…_

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

"Willow!" Buffy exclaimed in utter surprise, halting mid-step as she stood on the threshold of her front entrance and living room. 

"Hey Buffy," the witch responded shyly, an echo of her high school persona. 

"You're…" the Slayer muttered dumbly, suddenly under the impression that she was hallucinating. 

"Awake, dressed, _and_ in the living room?" Willow laughed good-naturedly, though her voice maintained a pianissimo texture. "I know… I don't know what came over me," one hand removed itself from her thigh as she shrugged, only to fall back seconds later.

"Well, this is great!" Buffy exclaimed, though the volume of her voice was controlled. "You sure you're feeling up to it though? I mean, you're down here because you _want_ to be, right?" her eyebrows lifted above softly contorted features, hoping her friend would confess if her reason for being downstairs was some form of peer pressure. 

"No, don't worry. Totally free-willed," she insisted. "I mean, the pain is still here, don't worry about that," Willow paused, torturous thoughts immediately conjured in her mind, although unwillingly. "I just… Something inside of me said that I'm never going to get through it if I just sit upstairs all day," the Wicca sighed, making unsuccessful attempts at holding her gaze with Buffy's. "Dunno if it'll last long, but I'm gonna make my best attempt," she smiled timidly once more. 

"I-Is there anything you wanna talk about?" Buffy said helpfully, having sat down on the coffee table in front of Willow at some point. 

"Nothing you haven't heard already," the redhead shrugged, eyes constantly roaming between different targets. 

"You sure?" the Slayer pressed gently, obviously open to hearing Willow's turmoil even if the topic was one they'd spoken of umpteen times before. 

"Yeah" this time she had no problem with making eye contact, her shy smile reassuring now. "Actually, now that I think of it, maybe I'll just go sit out back for a little while. Get some fresh air," she shrugged. 

"Okay…" the Slayer smiled supportively. "Well, if you _do_ wanna talk, you know where I'll be," Buffy breathed in then, and her lips curled in disgust as she got a whiff of Doublemeat grime. "Ugh… That is, after I finish sterilizing myself," she shuddered. "I'm shower-bound."

Willow gave a soft laugh at that, suddenly thankful that Buffy hadn't embraced her in any way, shape, or form just yet. 

Buffy stood up, making a mental note to disinfect the spot where she'd been sitting later on. Looking around, the Slayer suddenly noticed the lack of her sister's presence. "Is Dawn home?" she inquired, head tilted as she frowned slightly. 

"Uh, yeah," Willow frowned, attempting to remember where she'd last seen the teen. "I think she's upstairs doing her homework," she said, not totally confident with her answer. 

"Okay, cool. Just tell her that I…" Buffy stopped mid-sentence, the smile she'd worn instantly fading. "Wait. Did you say that she's doing her homework?"

Willow, suddenly intimidated, shrunk into the couch's side. "I think so," she said, unsure of what to expect from the Slayer. 

"Willingly?" Buffy's eyebrows set a new world record for height achievement, the disbelief evident in her voice. 

Again, Willow nodded, a look of apprehensive fright sprawled across her petite visage. 

Simply put, the Slayer then turned and ran. In a timeframe that would have left the Man of Steel wallowing in shame, she had ascended the staircase and landed before Dawn's bedroom door. Hastily twisting the brass knob, she tumbled in, chest heaving slightly from her sudden burst of locomotion. "All right," she panted. "Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?" Buffy sucked back a gallon of air as she squarely faced the supposed intruder. 

Dawn was dumbfounded. Lying on her bed, the teen simply watched her sister's extraordinary show, one eyebrow cocked throughout the display. "Huh?" one corner of her top lip curled up in utter confusion, the single syllable muttered for lack of a better question. 

Scanning her sister's immediate surroundings, Buffy discovered a math book and open binder, as well as a pen that was wedged between Dawn's fingers. "You're… Doing your homework," she said bluntly, obviously shocked. 

"Uh huh…" Dawn replied slowly, her nod equally as languid. Currently, she was giving her sister the 'what the Hell are you on?' look, purposely oblivious to the reason for her sister's amazement. 

"You never do your homework," Buffy motioned to her sister's books with a flat, upturned palm. 

"Yes I do!" the brunette quickly retorted, obviously wounded by such words. 

"Well, not without me _telling_ you to do it like a thousand times nightly," the Slayer said, rolling her eyes at such displays of emotional injury. As Dawn visibly struggled for some groundbreaking excuse to justify her spontaneous change in after-school priorities, realisation practically knocked Buffy from where she was standing. Crossing her arms, she straightened, lips pursing a moment before she chose to speak. "What do you want?" the Slayer forced her voice to sound as intimidating as possible, requiring such a tone to overpower the ridiculous appearance of her burger-flipping uniform.

Dawn looked up, emerging from her thought-processing state. "What?" she asked, giving her sister another puzzled look. 

"Come _on_," Buffy almost smirked. "I used to be a teenager too, remember? Which, by the way, wasn't that long ago," she reminded her sister. "The only time that I'd ever _willingly_ do my homework is if I wanted something from mom. So give up the act… What. Do. You. Want?" Buffy asked shortly, her expression telling Dawn that there was no way she could bullshit her way out of _this_ one. 

Heaving a deep sigh, the teenager tossed her pen aside, pulling up into a kneeling position. "Well, Phoenix and his brother are going to The Bronze tonight, and they wanted to know if I… if _we_ wanted to go," Dawn quickly added the fact that her sister had been invited as well, hoping to use it as ammunition. 

"Phoenix…?" Buffy mentally attempted to place the name to a face. "The guy who was over here a couple of nights ago?"

"Yeah. A-And like I said, his brother Dakota will be there, too," she said, face illuminated in a childlike manner. 

Dawn sat silently for a moment, fiddling with the seams on her pants while Buffy appeared to be contemplating her request. When silence drifted between either sister for more than a minute though, the brunette could endure such suspense no longer. "So… Can I go?" she asked meekly, her gaze of an equal nature as her sibling caught it. 

Buffy seemed to roll the idea over in her head one more time, letting out a deep but muted sigh before answering. "_If_ all your homework is done," she said firmly. "I don't see why not," the Slayer shrugged, a small smile having crept upon her features. 

"Ee!" Dawn squealed, her grin now spread to an impossible width. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she bubbled, having been intent on giving her sister a hug until the scent of grease promptly repelled her. Stopping dead in her tracks, she had to struggle to stop a look of revulsion from overtaking her appreciative smile.

"Oh God, can you smell it too?" Buffy asked, suddenly horrified. 

"Uhm… Uh-huh," Dawn said reluctantly, not wanting to further wound her sister's dignity. 

"All right. That's it! I'm having a shower," the Slayer pouted, looking down at her striped uniform in disgusted shame. Not even wanting to see what kind of pitiful gaze her sister was willing to offer, Buffy chose that exact instant to make a mad dash for the bathroom. 

"Oh, they're picking us up at eight by the way!" Dawn yelled after her, though seconds later she had flopped down onto the mattress, face composed of pure bliss. 

Buffy on the other hand was leaning against the sturdy form of her bathroom door, having slammed it shut behind her. Silence clung to her almost as infectiously as that blood-curdling stench of grease, and through it, one terrifying realisation was catapulted toward her. Dawn had said that '_they're_ picking _us_ up'… at eight o'clock. 

_Not good_, she thought, eyes going wide in shock. Buffy had quite obviously just been invited on what was practically an all-out date at the hands of her sister, and she hadn't even protested when she'd had the chance. Knowing Dawn, if she backed out now the teen would only take it personally, or at least warp it so that Buffy would get forced into going anyway. 

Luckily, in that same moment the Slayer's overactive brain was able to come up with a positive notion through such sudden dreariness. _At least I'll be able to keep an eye on Dawn_… she thought, wondering if her voice would have sounded optimistic should the words have been spoken verbally.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Dawn with Phoenix or anything, it was just that… Well, okay, so maybe she didn't _completely_ trust her little sister, but she had good reason. After all, high school relationships… make that _all_ relationships… had a history of falling into the 'complete and utter tragedy' category amongst Summers women.

Therefore, as a big sister, one whose experience in the field of disastrous relationships was far more than impressive, it was practically her _duty_ to go along with Dawn. That, and it was obviously the only truly legitimate reason she had to not bail on this 'date'.  

With a sigh that was not totally sombre in light of her newest decision, Buffy stripped down to nothing, having adjusted the shower's water temperature before doing so. Her first desire was to toss the hideous orange garment into the trash, but she obligingly added it to the laundry basket. Climbing into the shower, Buffy marvelled at how therapeutic the sensation of hot water beads could be. Every tense muscle melted beneath its soothing pressure, her stress sinking down the drain as she washed away suds of soap. 

Although it was mostly due to the tranquilizing effect of her shower, by the time she finished, Buffy had what was at the very least an optimistic outlook on her impending night at the Bronze. She'd decided that maybe the prospect of spending an evening with a nice, _normal_ guy wasn't so apocalyptic, or even hopeless in terms of building a possible relationship. After all, it wasn't as if _this_ attempt could be marred by the fact that she was no longer with the love of her life.

(Author's Note: It's aaaalllll about the feedback, people. Honestly, the nature of any review you might have doesn't bother me; good, bad, constructive criticism… I wanna hear it all, lol. Cuz hey, if you think this is a crappy story/my technique is really starting to suck, moreso than usual that is, then I'm never gonna know unless you tell me! So yeah, thanks for continuing to read my fictions, hope you're enjoying them!)


	6. No, I'm Not Bored, I'm Just Comatose!

"So, I dunno. I'm kind of two-sided on the issue… What do you think?" Dakota said, interested gaze fixing pointedly upon the blonde girl before him. 

It took Buffy a moment to realise that the question had in fact been thrown her way however, and she quite suddenly snapped from the daze she'd burrowed into. "Huh?" the Slayer asked, jerking to attention. "Oh, uh…" she shrugged, attempting to cover for her obvious failure to stay in the conversation. "I'm not sure," she laughed. "I pretty much agree with you, what with there being good reasons to go either way and all," activating her most charming smile, Buffy could only pray that he would accept her answer and move on.

Emerald eyes simply glowed though as Dakota stared at her, mild amusement written across his features. Clearing his throat, the young man pushed away his smile and became mockingly serious. "I see… And, what about the obvious international complications? What do you suppose should be done about that?" he inquired, brows furrowed as if deeply curious. 

"Well, I…" the Slayer shrugged, looking to her now empty glass in hope that it would reveal an answer to her. "Who says anyone else would have a problem with it? M-maybe everyone will be just fine and dandy with it!" she said confidently, as if she'd made a perfectly relevant point. 

Instead of beginning any sort of debate with her though, Dakota simply began to chuckle light-heartedly, nodding as he did so. 

Not understanding what was meant by her companion's outbreak of gentle giggles, it didn't take long before Buffy's previously self-assured expression became something of a more offended variety. "What?" she asked, not enjoying the fact that she was being laughed at. "What'd I say?"

Dakota waved a hand in the air, now shaking off his laughter. "Nothing, nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's just… You realise that I had been talking about whether or not Sunnydale High and Sunnydale University should be allowed to have corporate sponsors for their sports teams… right?" Dakota's eyebrows were lifted to astronomical heights as he asked the question, clearly aware that Buffy hadn't heard more than eleven of the words he'd spoken over the past five minutes. 

Mortified beyond the telling of it, the Slayer could do nothing but look away as her face took on the composure of a ripe cherry. _Dating tip number one: **always** listen to his stories, even if they're only about as exciting as watching paint dry_, she mentally chided herself.

"Hey," Dakota prompted, touching the Slayer's bare shoulder lightly. "Don't worry about it… I realise that when you're not all gung-ho about sports teams, it can be pretty boring to sit and listen to someone ramble on about them," the ebon-haired student shrugged, smiling as Buffy turned back to him so she knew he wasn't offended by her bout of daydreaming. 

"No, no, it's not that," she insisted, not wanting him to get the wrong impression even though his one-ended conversation _had_ put her into a mild coma. "I just had a really long day at work," she sighed. "I mean, I can handle serving an entire family, even if it's a really _big_ family… But two entire classes of screaming third-graders who still think the contents of their noses substitutes as a food group?" she shook her head. "_That_ is a completely different situation," the Slayer groaned, a testament to just how desperate she was to _never_ prepare another Medley Meal for as long as she lived. 

Chiselled features contracted as Dakota pulled them into a wince, though even with such an expression upon his face, the man was still gorgeous. "Well in that case, it looks like this is the best place for you… Nothing cures stress better than dancing and drinks!" 

Although she could quite easily come up with one… no, two activities that were even more satisfying than The Bronze, Buffy gave an exuberant nod. "Amen to that!"

Slapping his hands against his thighs and rubbing the slightly tense muscles once or twice, Dakota looked to his semi-date's long-since-empty cup. "Speaking of which" he pointed to the tinted plastic article. "Looks like you could use a refill."

"Oh! Uh, yeah… You don't mind…?" the Slayer asked hesitantly, not wanting him to get up simply for the purpose of refilling _her_ drink. 

"Wouldn't ask if I didn't want to," he smiled, taking hold of both their glasses. "Back in a minute" he glanced quickly to the bar, and noticed the not-so-friendly looking line-up. "Or five," he chuckled, shrugging as he walked away. 

_Alone at last_, Buffy thought wistfully, heaving a deep, relaxing sigh. It was nice to be out with someone else… it _really_ was. She felt comforted knowing that human guys still found her even mildly attractive. But… it was equally as wonderful to be left alone with her own thoughts for a moment… or five. 

Thrumming her fingers against the white table at which she was seated, Buffy looked straight ahead to the dance floor. Dawn was still out there with Phoenix, her eyes trained solely upon his form as she continued to swing her hips and laugh at each and every one of his jokes. The teens were obviously having the time of their lives. 

_Score one for the Summers women: Dawn finds a nice, normal guy on her first try_, she thought with a smile, emerald orbs glittering slightly as she began pondering her current situation.

So far, things were going quite nicely. Dakota didn't show any signs of possessing the stuck-up, arrogant attitude displayed by most of the football players she'd met in high school. He was definitely a 'nice guy', having chuckled in response to her poorest jokes and sympathized with her devastating stories concerning the Doublemeat Palace. Oh, and the fact that her Slayer senses weren't going berserk while she sat next to him was _definitely_ a good sign. Maybe she and Dawn would both get lucky tonight… but only in the not-getting-eaten context of course… No need to let her mind start wandering in _those_ directions when it concerned her _little sister_. 

Despite all of the truly wonderful things that Dakota had going for him though, Buffy couldn't help admitting that she felt as if… something… was missing. Mentally, she once again ran over the checklist she'd prepared in terms of Dakota's obvious characteristics.

Let's see…

Human? Check. 

Normal? Check. 

Giving off the good guy and super dependable vibe? Check. 

Actually going somewhere in life? Definitely. 

Interesting? Maybe… In the sense that he was obviously a very active part of his community. Along with attending Sunnydale U, Dakota played on the school's football team, helped out with coaching Phoenix's team whenever he could, and worked part-time at his father's business whenever his schedule permitted it. _We'll give him half marks in this category then…_ she decided, wanting to at least give the man credit despite the fact that his lifestyle wasn't one she truly found exceptionably remarkable. 

Finished grading him on the 'interesting' aspect, Buffy moved on to her last category…

Was Dakota _really_ all that exciting? Did she feel sparks fly whenever his emerald gems made contact with hers? Was her skin still humming from how close she'd been sitting to him not long ago? Sighing, Buffy reluctantly arrived at the only conclusion she could. The mental image of her pen was removed from its hovering position above her equally intangible piece of paper, unable to affirm Dakota's ability to send electrical impulses rocketing through her veins. So far during the evening, the only thing she'd felt when speaking with Dakota was casually budding friendship… that is, if she wasn't daydreaming. 

With a sigh, Buffy abandoned the task of mentally listing Dakota's favourable qualities, deciding that unfortunately he just wasn't anything… _unique_. Head resting in the palm of her hand, the Slayer began toying with the little plastic umbrella she'd received with her drink, mildly amused by the blur of colours created when she twirled it between her index finger and thumb. _And so ends my curiosity as to just **how** this 'date' was going to end_, she thought, wondering as her eyes swept over the various couples in the crowd if she'd ever be able to find a man suited for her needs. 

It wasn't that she couldn't _deal_ with a human boyfriend. She'd proved that she could with Riley, despite the obviously catastrophic way in which _that_ relationship had ended. Being with a nice, _normal_ guy definitely had its perks… There was no worrying if he'd lose his soul after their relationship was consummated… Hell, there was no concern that he didn't have a soul in the _first _place. Most wonderful of all, they could spend time together in the _daylight_, a definite requirement for relationships in sunny California. 

But if Spike had taught her anything, it was that a Slayer needed just a little more than that. It wasn't so much that she required the violence that had sprouted between her and the peroxide fiend last year… and, hello! She was _way_ past that I-hate-everything-in-my-life-and-_need_-some-violent-release stage. No, the fact of the matter was that as a Slayer, Buffy practically _required_ someone who was physically equal to her. Someone who could handle it if she wanted to relieve some of the stress that had accumulated in her Slayer muscles after a hard night's work, and someone who could return such superhuman pressure with an equal calibre of strength. So far, the only answer to such a _primal_ need had been a vampire lover. 

Hence her strong yet so far unsuccessful determination to _forget_ all of what Spike had 'taught' her and just… _move on_. _Besides_, she thought… _you don't have to use sex as a stress-reliever… Hello! That's what your training equipment is for!_ Buffy assured herself, quickly swapping away any thoughts suggesting the fact that there wasn't a piece of equipment for _every_ set of muscles in her body…

_Damn…_ she thought simply, a universal response to all of the notions that had just forced their way into, through, and back out of her cranium. Despite the fact that the conjuring of such thoughts had only created _more_ problems though, her inner voice appeared to have been silenced for the time being, and Buffy decided that she was going to _savour_ it. Maybe she'd listen to the Bronze's not-too-terrible choice of music for a change. 

Her moment of peace was promptly halted though, the presence of another being invading her senses like some alien probe. _Dakota's back, I guess… _she sighed, not disappointed but not excited by the fact, either. _Yay?_ She offered meekly, painting a falsely wide smile upon her features before pivoting on the stool to meet…

Shocking blue. Cerulean crystals. Sapphires. Lightning tainted with the colours of the ocean. God, who knew she had enough of a poet within her to describe the set of orbs that stared back at her when she swivelled so casually upon her hind axis to meet them. 

And, wait. 

She knew those eyes. And those cheeks, chiselled from the purest, most velveteen texture of ivory she could imagine. Lips that borrowed their hue from the most luscious roses, hiding behind them a tongue more experienced than any dance instructor on the face of the earth. Oh, and that hair, electrically platinum curls so silken that they could put even the finest articles of clothing crafted from the same fabric to shame.

"Spike?" she whispered. _Gah! Wait a minute! _The Slayer's inner voice practically screeched. _You were **not** supposed to sound so… so… wow-my-heart's-fluttering-in-my-chest-ish! It must be your inner turmoil that's getting to you… Making you react in strange ways to the most **inappropriate** people, er, demons. And, hey, is there something different about him?_ Buffy caught herself again, refusing to allow that last question to be answered. _Okay, pulling yourself together again_, she narrated. _Now, let's try this a second time…_

"What are you doing here?" _There. That's better. You don't sound as if your true love has finally come back to you, but it didn't sound as if as if you want him out of your face immediately, either_. Of course, that inner statement only lead Buffy to ask herself _why _she wasn't treating him like the animal he so obviously was, but for now she was too focused on any reply that might sprout from his lips to really be concerned with such a question.

"Me?" the vampire said softly, eyebrows lifting as he pointed to himself momentarily. "Oh, nothing, really" he shrugged, looking around. "Just uh, gettin' reacquainted with the scenery is all," a weak smile crossed his features then, its tenderness almost startling the Slayer opposite him. 

"Well," Buffy said with a forced but light-hearted chuckle. "Lucky for you nothing really ever changes in this town… It's not the sort of place that does a one-eighty on you if you're gone for a little while." _Okay! Could you have fitted just **one** more subtle but very personal references into that teensy little sentence?_ Buffy thought, mentally shaking her head at herself.

"I dunno," Spike said, shrugging in the same meek way he'd done only seconds ago. "Seems like Bite Size has grown up a bit since I last saw her," he motioned with his eyes to the dance floor then, checking for perhaps the sixth time since approaching Buffy that he was surrounded by enough shadow that Dawn wouldn't see him should she happen glance over. 

Following his gaze, the blonde huntress was met by the sight of her sister, who was now wrapped in a semi-intimate embrace with Phoenix. They drifted across the dance floor in complete ignorance of the world around them, it seemed, aware only of each other and the soft, slow song that soothed their dance-exhausted muscles. "Oh yeah," Buffy said with an affectionate smile. "I think Dawn's experiencing her first puppy love," the Slayer chuckled, glancing to witness Spike's semi-charmed response. 

"I'm surprised it took her _this_ long," from Buffy's curious look, Spike continued with the chit-chat, pushing away the shyness that enveloped him to continue what would no doubt be a brief conversation with his lady love. "All family ties aside, I always thought lil' sis'd be a looker with the boys her age" he said sincerely, eyes drifting back to Buffy in the moment of silence that followed them. 

_God_… she was beautiful. It didn't matter what sort of effort she put into her appearance, Buffy always filled his heart to the absolute breaking point with stunned rapture. Her golden tresses, those emerald orbs tinted with a daring amount of hazel, lips that could ignite his skin within a nanosecond of contact, and the spirit of a warrior that outdid any Amazon woman even in spite of Buffy's California-girl personality. This… No, _she_ was what made it all worthwhile. The echoing screams that now haunted him every night because of his soul, the torture he'd gone through to get it in the first place… It was all worth it when it boiled down to _her_. __

He loved her… God, did he love her. More than she could fathom. Sometimes more than _he_ could handle. But no matter what, she would _always_ be worth it. 

"And what about you?" Spike found himself asking, almost startled by the automatic activity of his voice he was so drowned by his thoughts. His tone was pleasant yet soft as he spoke, signifying to Buffy that he could handle even the bitterest truth. "Is… There anyone _you're_ here with, pet?" his eyebrows lifted, hoping she was solo even though it would hardly heighten his chances with her. Spike was no fool; soul or no soul, _nothing_ would _ever_ erase what he did to her. Of course, that made his acquiring the soul somewhat worthless, but then again, love wasn't exactly the _least_ blind condition known to man, now was it?

Buffy almost panicked as she quickly searched for a response to his question, for some reason intimidated by Spike's soft, almost shy demeanour. "Well, I'm… In a manner of speaking, I guess you could say that--"

"Can I help you?" Dakota's voice unexpectedly sliced between the pair of blondes with a somewhat suspicious and domineering blade. 

Twin craniums twisted in the young man's direction, Buffy's eyes almost startled while Spike's were comprehensive, understanding from the pair of beverages the other man held that _he_ was most likely Buffy's 'date'. The vampire instinctively sized his opponent up, wondering from the Slayer's pseudo-answer if the younger boy really had a _right_ to sound so intolerant as he intruded upon their already awkward conversation.

"Dakota!" the Slayer bubbled with innocence as she turned a beaming smile toward the man, its phoniness visible only to Spike, who was the uncontested expert when it came to recognizing the true emotion behind her every facial expression. "Hey, um…" Buffy looked between either man, Spike's eyes calm oceans as they studied the other man, whose own jewels were full of question. "This is Wi--esley," she said, stumbling slightly and then re-shaping the vampire's 'name'. "Wesley… Dalton," she finished with a polite smile. 

Dakota regarded the other man for a moment, curious as to what sort of relationship, if any, he had with Buffy, but feeling relaxed enough to allow some of his hostility to wash away. "Oh," he said monotonously, setting down the stash of drinks he held to offer Spike his hand. "Well, Wesley… Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," the bleached demon responded, his voice equally devoid of emotion. Spike's shyness had been pushed to the back burner for a moment, his signature defensiveness showing through in response to the other man's attitude. For a split second his gaze was tossed to the Slayer, quirked brow displaying his mental inquiry as to why she would choose a false name with which to introduce him. 

Unable to explain herself verbally, Buffy lifted her eyebrows ever so slightly, eyes widening just as subtly as if to say 'I have my reasons… Just go with it for now'. 

When it had come time to produce Spike's name, she had originally thought to use 'William', deciding that it would be the _least_ disturbing to Dakota, who had obviously been slightly agitated by the demon's presence in the first place. But she couldn't do it. She just _couldn't_ use his true name in a situation that seemed so informal. For some reason, Spike's birth title was like some sort of treasure to her, one that could be used only in the most private, if not personal situations. No _way_ was she going to offer it to a stranger, regardless of how friendly he might be. 

Realising in that instant that the moment of introduction between either male had passed, Buffy jumped in with her usual peacekeeping abilities. "Wesley is… a friend from out of town… We hung out a lot when I still lived in LA," and again with her innocent, convincing smile. _Please God, let him be one of those guys who believes **anything** they're told…_ she thought fleetingly, waiting for Dakota's response. Spike in the meanwhile kept his feet planted, watching with mild amusement as Buffy staggered from explanation to explanation. 

"Oh… Did you just move here or something?" the dark-haired man asked as his emerald gaze swept over Spike once again, his politeness becoming more and more genuine as harmless seconds ticked by. 

"You could say that," Spike shrugged. Buffy's _wha- in-the-hell-kind-of-answer-is-that?_-look made him quickly realise though that this was obviously _not the situation for enigmatic responses. "I mean, uh, you know… I'm in the _process_ of moving and such," he amended, looking to the Slayer for her approval of his response, which she wordlessly granted him._

"Cool," Dakota said neutrally, nodding his head. "So, does that mean you're gonna be attending Sunnydale U then?" he asked with some curiosity, only mildly interested in the other man's endeavours. 

"I highly doubt it," Spike replied cooly, eyes narrowed as if reminiscing some past schooling experience. "Never was the type to really _appreciate_ what the education system had to offer. Was always more of a 'live and learn' sort of fellow myself" he gave an awkward chuckle, able to see that the other man obviously didn't understand, or for that matter, approve. His recently added conscience should have had something to say on that note, but for some reason, Spike couldn't find it within himself to feel _anything positive about Dakota. "Anyway, best be off I suppose. Think I might get in a spot of uh, physical activity before the night's end" he cast a knowing glance in the Slayer's direction. _

"Exercise? At this time of night?" Dakota laughed. "Wow, I bet you'd be a football coach's dream as far as fitness goes" he chuckled, a slight pang of jealousy running through him at the thought that such an academically disinclined man could be a potential dream-member of the football team. 

"Right" Spike said with a tight-lipped, very subtle grin, tossing a glance in Buffy's direction, who had fallen fairly silent amidst the manly conversation that floated around her. "Well, I'll leave you two to it then…" he said after a moment of fittingly awkward silence, making direct eye contact with his former lover then. "Be seeing you, love." Pinning his azure orbs upon Dakota for only a fraction of a second and then looking to Buffy once more, Spike turned his back upon the obviously happy pair. 

"Bye, Wesley," the Slayer said softly, almost robotically, unable to raise her voice to its usually confident tone. Before Spike had taken three steps away from her, Buffy had already begun to long for him to return. When he had been within such a close proximity, she had been filled with a comforting sense of normalcy. It put her at ease knowing he still existed, still sought her out, even in spite of all that had occurred between them in the past year. Spike reminded her that there _was_ someone in the world who knew who and _what she was; the Slayer, the leader, the lost little girl who just wished for the violence to stop once in a while, the Chosen One who couldn't help being occasionally drawn to the demon realm she battled so relentlessly. He saw the good and bad sides of her, knew them better than __she did even, and still he loved her. Why did the only one who understood and loved _everything_ within her have to be a heartless demon?_

"Uh oh, did I lose you again?" Dakota chuckled, completely unaware of the momentous thought-train he'd just interrupted. His face was slightly bemused as he gazed upon his blank-eyed pseudo-date. 

Buffy straightened immediately, emerald orbs regaining their composure as she flushed embarrassedly. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry Dakota" she shook her head. "I'm just Miss Space Cadet tonight… it has _nothing_ to do with you, I _promise" the Slayer smiled apologetically, partly lying through her teeth as she did so. _

"Don't worry about it," the football player said passively. "Compared to some dates I've had in the past, tonight has been _epically_ romantic… trust me when I say that, too" he shook his head in brief remembrance. "Listen, if you're feeling that…"

"Blonde?" Buffy offered good-naturedly. 

"Okay, I was gonna go for _dazed_, but…" he smiled. "Anyway, if you're feeling that out of it, do you wanna just dance for a little while?" Dakota asked, eyebrows raised in hope. 

"Hm," the Slayer pretended to contemplate the decision, surprised at how carefree she suddenly felt, hardly concerned with the fact that the man opposite her could be about as interesting as a peanut at times. "An activity that is both fun, and requires _no_ thinking whatsoever…" she continued to act out the process of thinking over her decision. "By Buffy standards, it doesn't really get much better than that," she smiled, hopping off her stool. 

"Well then, after you," Dakota waved his hand out in a gentlemanly manner, waiting for Buffy to make her way out onto the dance floor before following.

_Forget the fact that this guy is so obviously **not** your type…_ Buffy thought silently as she began to move along with the tunes that began to drown her._ Just think: you **could** be pulling a late shift at the Doublemeat Palace… Instead, you're here, at the Bronze, dancing to half-decent music with a guy who, yes, is boring but is also **totally** nice… Does life really get any better?_

With that, the Slayer deactivated any retaliating thoughts, refusing to acknowledge the fact that yes, there _were_ better things in life… If she did _that after all, then she might also have to admit just __what those 'better things' were, and that one of them, whether she liked it or not, had in fact just walked out the door not five minutes ago. _

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

Spike stepped into the crisp night air, his head buzzing with the flurry of thoughts and emotions that were weaving through his mind and soul. Angered jealousy, heartache, confusion, and even a small slice of serenity were ingredients to the mentally noisy recipe. All except the latter could of course blame their existence primarily upon the effect of seeing Buffy in the presence of another man. Whether she seemed genuinely interested in the boy or not could in no way dampen the force with which his soul was currently wrenching.

_Make a trip to the underworld and back, get myself a nice, shiny soul for the girl I love, and **this **is what happens_… he thought heavily, eyes closing as the magnitude of his words hit his heart with another fistful of pain. He was supposed to have at least had the chance to _tell Buffy about the acquisition of his soul before another man swooped in. Of course, all was not lost just yet… the Slayer hadn't seemed as if she was all too interested in Dakota, which meant Spike had no reason to assume that his gaining a soul had been _completely_ pointless. But it was just the principle of the situation; Buffy might be worth his getting a soul, but why do it for nothing?_

With a heavy sigh, Spike attempted to clear every ounce of troublesome thought from his consciousness, focusing instead upon that fraction of contentment hanging over his head. Even those few moments he'd spent with Buffy had been enough to make his heart sing. His hungry ears had savoured every syllable they exchanged, the brightness in her most subtle smiles was like visual ambrosia to him, and her scent was more intoxicating than the most potent alcohol he'd ever tasted. To put it simply, her perfection hadn't wavered by a single degree since the last time he'd seen her. And for perhaps the six millionth time, Spike ensured himself that every flaming punch that had struck him, every otherworldly insect that had crawled beneath his skin had been worth it if the soul he had attained from such torture could eventually make him worthy of her love.

_Hear that, prep boy? I got myself a **soul** for her, fought a right nasty, fire-fisted wanker for it, too. Had bugs crawlin' around my inner wigglies, even fought a few not-too-friendly demons. What have **you** done then, hm? Bought her a drink? Said a few nice words? Sorry, but in Buffy's book, that'll only get you so far…_ Spike mused, a confident smile spreading between his finely chiselled cheeks at that. Oh no, he _wasn't going to get shown up by a guy who was even __less worthy than Riley had been. _

Besides… something about that fellow was just pressing the wrong buttons in Spike's mind. He couldn't tell whether his senses had read 'demon' or 'malicious human', but something about Dakota had just… **_irked_** him the wrong way. And Buffy had seemed relatively oblivious to any such danger, too.

_Gonna have to keep an eye on that one then, I suppose_… he thought idly, beginning a randomly mapped-out journey down the alleyway. Shifting between mental states composed of quiet rage and tranquillity, Spike melted into the darkness, eventually becoming nothing more than a fleeting ripple in the shadows.

(**Author's Note: **Oh. MY GOSH! I know… It's been TWO MONTHS since my last update! Believe me, I am FEELING the shame. And I am so sorry… I just haven't been feeling inspired lately, and being the type of writer I am, I don't like to push things just so that I can punch out a new chapter every three days. I'd rather you guys be happy with something that I took time to perfect, than for you to be mildly satisfied with a piece of garbage. That said, I hope you like! PLEASE REVIEW!!! I won't stop writing if you DON'T choose to, but like I always say, your words mean a lot to me! Oh, and just as a teency side note: I know that Spike and Buffy had a lot of conflicting feelings, ie. She was having fun one second, and was bored to tears the next; or Spike was depressed and on the verge of giving up with Buffy, and then he was motivated again… I realise that happened, and I kind of meant for it to. It's just all part of their characters… I mean, in situations like that, people don't always tend to have a consistent thought process, so… Well, in short, I meant for that to happen, lol… anyways, REVIEW PLEAAASE! Hehe… Later!)


End file.
